


Naught But A Pleasant Dream

by dogbutch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Autistic Hermione Granger, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Hermione Granger, Lesbian Luna Lovegood, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 04:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30049731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogbutch/pseuds/dogbutch
Summary: Hermione's pleasant dream is abruptly thrust into her reality as Luna discovers her penchant for Dreamwalking, and the two stumble their way into something delightful in one another.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Luna Lovegood, Hermione Granger/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pink & Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15842229) by [Hermione_Stranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermione_Stranger/pseuds/Hermione_Stranger). 



Hermione awoke in a strange kind of way. She was suddenly conscious of the fact that she was in bed, and then she was sitting on the edge of the bed, perhaps without moving at all. Surrounding her was the Gryffindor girls dormitory, or perhaps the astronomy tower; some strange hybrid room with naught but a single (shockingly large) bed, in a far larger circular room. The walls were pink, or maybe yellow...something indescribable, but pleasant nonetheless.

She rose to her feet far more gracefully than one would expect after a late night studying Charms in the library until the last moments before night hours, scrambling back up the stairs towards the dormitory. Padding calmly and deliberately across the floor, she found herself at a balcony she had somehow only just noticed, open to the air, she could smell the ocean. And coffee.

There, leaning against the handrailing nursing a cracked mug with The Quibbler's cursive logo, was Luna Lovegood, in naught but an oversized white T-shirt. Her hair moving like liquid silver in the morning ocean air. Hermione's fingers itched with a desire to run her fingers through it. She reached out, but before making contact was entirely blindsided by a glimpse of Luna's perfect, ivory rear as her sleep shirt was pushed up by the wind.

Abruptly changing course, Hermione's hand ghosted down Luna's side as she took a step closer, before running her fingertips over the pale skin, and taking a wholesome grasp on her perfect behind.

Luna made a small surprised sound, turning around to face her and lean against the railing.

"Well good morning my dear Hermione, have you had good dreams? I'm sensing the good kind of Wrackspurts have been rather active in your ears overnight, especially considering your little hello just now" she hummed in her usual airy manner.

'Mesmerizing' was all Hermione could think. Like chimes in a summer breeze.

"I think so" Hermione mumbled in response. "Although I don't remember going to sleep, to be honest". She found this fact rather annoying. Hermione was on top of her schedule, every day was perfectly organized into 15 minute blocks that allowed her to complete all her coursework in an organized and timely manner.

Luna laughed lightly, reaching out with a delicate finger to hook a stray curl on Hermione's forehead and place it with the most tender of movements behind her ear.

Hernione revelled in it, inhaling deeply as Luna's hand reached up towards her cheek to catch the entrancing scent of the younger witch's perfume.

She suddenly became aware that her hands were feeling awfully empty, and her lips rather unoccupied. Wordlessly, Hermione stepped forward to capture Luna in a light but loving kiss, hands resting on the blonde witch's hips, before inching their way around her back to grab another delicious handful of her delightful derriere.

Luna seemed to melt under her touch, pressing further against her hands, deeper into the kiss. The delivilsh little witch was nipping just so at her lower lip, asking for more, just a little more, and Hermione could do naught but oblige, pressing closer, her tongue searching for some unknowable truth inside Luna's mouth.

What a delightful morning. Such a shame that in that precise moment, a door which Hermione did not recall existing a moment ago opened somewhere behind her, and a rather annoyed Hermione broke her delectable morning kiss to turn her head and note, with shock, that another Luna had stepped out of the doorway.

This Luna was dressed in a pair of flannel pyjamas bearing cartoonish unicorns and rainbows, and seemed to be taking in the strange astronomy-tower-dormitory-circular-room with intrigued blue eyes.

"Luna?" Hermione called out, and the Other Luna turned to face her.

"Hermione! Goodness what luck might I have, to come stumbling upon you here. This room is awfully intriguing, isn't it? The walls seem to change color, and it looks halfway between-"

"-between the Astronomy tower and the Gryffindor girls dormitories? Yeah. I wondered about that" Hermione interrupted. She was a little guilty to admit she had actually wondered very little about these strange circumstances, and was far more occupied in mental capacity in thoroughly enjoying her lovely girlfriend. Speaking of which, what had happened to the original Luna? Hermione's head whipped around to note that she had disappeared seemingly into thin air, now that Other Luna had arrived.

Entirely unbothered by these circumstances, Hermione simply shrugged the puzzling situation off and walked over to Luna, before draping her arms over her flannel-clad shoulders and nuzzling deeply into her neck.

"You smell so nice Luna, how are you so lovely?" She murmured, planting a lazy kiss or three on Luna's neck.

To her surprise, Luna grew immediately tense with her ministrations, feeling the pulse under her lips quicken.

Making an attempt at her usual light and airy tone, Luna whispered "Hermione…" the nervous crack in her voice taking Hermione off guard.

"Luna?" she puzzled, withdrawing to look her fair maiden in the eyes. "Are you okay sweetheart? You seem anxious...anything my tongue can fix?" she quipped with a smirk, hoping to brighten her mood. Instead, Luna stared back at her wide-eyed with shock. This was not right. Luna had never looked at her like this, Luna had never made this face at all.

Hermione brought a hand up to rest on her cheek. "Luna?" she whispered, as if something within her was starting to mull the idea that this situation was, perhaps, slightly peculiar.

Luna swallowed thickly, her eyes darting to Hermione's lips.

"Hermione…" she began slowly, "Are you in full control of your facilities at present…are you most certain you are not a figment within the imagination of another…"

Hermione scrunched her brows, puzzled.

"What? What are you talking about Luna?"

Luna had seemed to regain some modicum of composure as she began again;

"What did we do last night, Hermione?"

Hermione grinned.

"I'm fairly certain we fucked like rabbits, why?"

Luna's cheeks tinged with a blush of magnificent magnitude as she attempted to speak again.

"That does sound...rather...enjoyable Hermione but I must truly know if you are indeed a figment or not within the conscience of another's dream. Last night we had roast chicken with Harry and Ron in the Great Hall, and then we…"

The silence lingered as cogs began to turn in Hermione.

"-went to the library together to finish studying for the Charms written exam." Hermione finally finished, struggling to wrap her mind around how that merged with her alternate memory of the previous evening, which seemed to be slipping through her fingers like sand the more she tried to think about it.

"And then...we said goodnight and you tucked my hair behind my ear...and then i went to bed...and then i...took care of myself...and then…and then...I don't know." panic rose in Hermione's throat as the room around her began to become blurred and amorphous.

Luna, sensing her rising panic, placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.

"But that doesn't make sense…" she whispered frantically.

"How did we get here? How did you go from over there being sexy with your bum out to here and wearing…” Hermione glanced Luna up and down “...Unicorn pyjamas. This doesn’t make any sense.”

Luna considered her for a moment before earnestly speaking;

“I am fairly certain this is a dream, Hermione.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open and her blurry vision adjusted to the rich red canopy of her dormitory bed in the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione quietly hissed out a breath, rubbing her eyes with the back of her palms to remove the remnants of sleep that clung to her lashes.

‘What the hell was that’ she thought to herself in annoyance. That dream had been awfully nice until doorway Luna had come along. Why couldn’t her psyche grant her just a few hours of blissful ignorance to her physical realities? Blasted brain cells. Damn them.

Her dreams of some fantastical future with Luna had become more and more her topic of choice when falling asleep; she loved to spin a complex reality in her mind as she lay in bed of the minutiae of this fantasy, like a project within her mind she added a little to each night.

It was rather well developed at this point; she and Luna would marry in a small and intimate ceremony, honeymoon in Greece; Luna would be an esteemed researcher, she would perhaps work for the Ministry of Magic, or Hogwarts, or perhaps both at once using a professionally licensed time turner. They would have 2 children, both girls, and their names would be...Astarte (an ancient warrior witch of mythos) and...well...name pending for their other daughter. They would live in a large home with a large bedroom rather like the one from her dream, but it would be far more decorated...books, pens and quills, pictures of their family and friends, a beautiful writing desk, an enchanted ceiling, the walls would be pink, or maybe yellow.

Like a barb in the balloon of her fantasy, she was struck immediately with the illogicality and improbability of everything about this scenario, and her breath seemed to be knocked out of her with the shame of this realization.

This was a fantasy. An insane fantasy that no-one except her could ever know of. Luna was not interested in her, Luna was likely not interested in witches at all. Or perhaps even wizards. Luna was interested in Nargles, Hermione knew that. And Wrackspurts, Flobberworms, Golden Snidgets and all other manner of creatures whose existence lay somewhere between unlikely and improbable.

Perhaps that was enough for now, as their long-winded library discussions regarding the many creatures of which no-one except Luna and her father knew of had been fiery, intellectually stimulating, and the reason Hermione had fallen for the witch.

Luna was incredibly smart. Perhaps smarter than Hermione, as Luna always seemed to achieve impeccable marks in all her classes with seemingly no study at all, and their library debates had more than proved Luna a worthy and formidable intellectual adversary. No-one seemed aware of this except Hermione, however, perhaps because few except those in Dumbledore’s Army had deigned to associate themselves with ‘Looney’ Lovegood for fear of social suicide.

Hermione’s lip curled at the cruel name that had followed Luna seemingly since her first year. Teenagers were evil beings. Any sign of difference or deviance from the most normal, boring kind of witch or wizard and you were a social pariah, in a society in which people could do Magic!

‘Bloody ridiculous’ Hermione concluded, running fingers through her scalp to soothe the brewing headache she could feel starting up behind her eyes; what a pisspot start to the day. 

She felt privileged, in a way. Hermione knew that without her association to the famous Harry Potter; The Boy Who Lived, she would have likely been treated just as Luna was. She was also weird, she found social interactions..difficult (except with Luna, who spoke in the most direct and non-obfuscated way; Hermione always knew she meant precisely what she said. Perhaps someone would’ve also caught on that her interest in wizards was...poor to say the least. She’d had that ‘crush’ on Ron in her fourth year, and it had felt so real! She had never liked boys before, but here she was, crying when Ron snogged some other girl in the Gryffindor common room, jealous when he hung out with her instead of her and Harry. Alas, when the two had broken up, Hermione had been expecting some kind of desire to immediately ask to be Ron’s girlfriend, or go on a date, or something like that (Hermione didn’t really know how one was supposed to go about these sort of things, to be honest). Instead, she was pleased that the trio was back together again, and seemed perfectly satisfied with this. Harry had told her to go for it, but she balked. It didn’t feel right, now wasn’t the right time, it’s too soon, I’m too busy with school, I’d rather wait til next year.

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, dyke’ she thought. She’d told Harry after, as usual, some lengthy research in the library. She knew about muggle lesbians, of course, but gay wizards had been something of a mystery. After some fruitless (heh) research in the library, she had turned to, painful as it may be, tabloid records in the Daily Prophet, and the litany of tabloid articles on witches and wizards past and present. 

“GODRIC GRYFINDOR’S SECRET GAY GALAVANTS IN THE IBERIAN PENINSULA” one such trash article had read. Hermione had sneered, scanning through the salacious yarn about the house founder’s ‘long time friend’ with whom he shared a home, Godric’s possession of a large number of ancient spartan artifacts...and despite herself, Hermione had to admit, the evidence seemed rather overwhelming.

Returning to the sweet embrace of proper academic texts, she read an extensive biography of Godric Gryffindor that made frequent mention of his ‘long time friend’, their home together, snippets of letters in which this friend was referred to in terms such as ‘my dearest’, ‘owner of my heart’, and ‘fire of mine loins’.

‘What rubbish’ she had thought. What an insult to the legacy of Godric Gryffindor to have a relationship so deep scrubbed from record and reduced to tabloids. 

Hermione knew about the mythic witches of Lesbos, of the powerful and enchanting Sappho, rumored to be half Veela, half witch, with an ability to draw the undying affections of any witch or woman whom she met. She knew of the whispers regarding Madam Hooch, their first year flying instructor, and she knew of the very-well-substantiated rumors regarding players of the Hollyhead Harpies, but what Hermione did not know was of any other gay girls at Hogwarts. Surely, it was statistically impossible for her to be alone, yet Hermione had never felt more alone. She knew Seamus had recently come out, and that he apparently had a boyfriend at Durmstrang since the Triwizard Tournament, and of a Slytherin by the name of Hawke who had apparently hexed someone for calling him a rather horrid muggle slur, before proudly proclaiming he was the hottest such slur in this whole mother-fucking school, and woe upon those who might try and tell him different. Hermione wanted to reach out to them both, but who was she to presume some inherent familial connection between them? They were not automatically friends just because she had come to terms with her compulsory heterosexuality. Although Hermione rather wished they were. Making friends was hard. She was lucky Luna had made it so easy.

Luna understood her, Luna listened, Luna saw her for the person she truly was. Luna had approached her nearly daily and simply sat down next to her in the library, and their friendship had blossomed from there. Hermione chewed on her lip. Friendship. She knew that eventually she would either have to come out to someone besides Harry (not even Ron knew, but he was rather daft and could scarcely be relied on to keep such an important piece of information), and then, Luna would know. Would Luna suddenly become aware of the glances Hermione so desperately stole at her, the way she swallowed thickly every time Luna hugged her, or touched her hand, or gazed unblinkly at her with eyes so silvery and cool they sent a chill up Hermione’s spine?

She hoped Luna would not push her away then, or be disgusted. Luna was understanding, and kind, beyond anyone Hermione had ever met, but what was the limit of her kindness?

“Oi Granger! Get up slag, it's breakfast time” someone suddenly spoke.

Hermione groaned.

“Ugh. Fine, Padma” Hermione responded, somewhat glad to be yanked from her spiral of anxiety.

Hermione sat up to see she was the last of the girls to be in bed, something rarer than perhaps any creature of which Luna had ever spoken, and she rushed to get out of bed and prepare for the day.

Hopefully Luna would still be in the Great Hall and they could at least enjoy a pleasant breakfast together, if not the elaborate lesbian domestic bliss of Hermione’s dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

Luna was once again in the endless hallway lined with an infinite number of locked oak doors, the thinly carpeted stone cold against her bare feet. She was rather frustrated with this dream, as it seemed to be rather resistant to her cognitive influences, and merely presented her with a boring walk past endless doors of which she could access none. She wasn’t even able to conjure a magical creature, or a pleasant smell, or a broomstick to make the journey more entertaining.

‘How dull’ she thought, ‘to escape into the subconscious where anything is possible, and yet find oneself so drastically limited’. Luna thought it ironic, perhaps someone like Hermione or Ginny would laugh that someone as eccentric as her had such a dry and monotonous recurring dream. Perhaps it was some kind of mild nightmare? 

‘Perhaps not’, she realized. She had had real nightmares before, reliving in violent, exaggerated detail the death of her mother. That was why she had learned the art of dream manipulation at the tender age of 10, as her father could scarcely sleep through the night without being awoken by a crying Luna at his bedside, having had another nightmare.

“Oneiromancy,” he had said, “is the divine art of dream interpretation. Dreams may be artifacts of a greater knowledge, a prediction of future events, however sometimes they are simply morsels of fun for the mind to enjoy, a treat of sentience to experience pleasant things once over, or pleasant things which may not have happened.”

“Unfortunately, sometimes it is the mind crying out in pain, asking us for relief. And only very few know that we do possess the ability to soothe our subconscious”

Little Luna had nodded along sagely as Xenophilius rose from his bed to take her by the hand and lead her back to her room.

“My dear, you can exert a measure of control over your dreams, you need only ask gently, or perhaps, when the mind is whipped to a turbulent precipice, ask strongly, but kindly, for a change in fate for your dreamscape self.”

She had clambered back into her bed as he waved his wand to cast a gentle tucking-in charm, and before she had known it, returned to her slumber.

He was, despite what many said about him, right in his knowledge. Luna had learned quickly to appeal her mind for alterations in her dream, and she hadn’t had nightmares in years as a result. She was able to curate her dreams to experience great memories, real or not, and often simply allowed her mind the freedom to curate an intriguing dreamscape for her to explore, often discovering something new about the world or herself in the process.

It was indeed through her dream explorations she had come to conclude her own affections towards witches, rather than wizards at the age of 11; the subconscious had always known, she needed only extend an ear and listen, and allow it to show her what it needed to express. She had told her father immediately, and he had congratulated her with pride in her magnificent abilities for knowing oneself at such a young age. Luna had never ‘come out’ to others, but made no effort to hide her homosexuality, like when she regarded Rowena Ravenclaw in the middle of Magical Histories as an enchantingly beautiful witch, or at breakfast in the great hall that the Hollyhead Harpies on the front page of the Daily Prophet Ron had been reading were “rather beautiful, don’t you think?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah I guess so” Ron had absently responded, reading the latest on the Quidditch World Cup.

“Some of them are kinda manly though, dunno if I’d want my girlfriend looking more like a dude than me” He added, flipping through to the crossword section.

“I think that’s a rather peculiar analysis; i find the masculinity of witches to be rather sexy and appealing, but perhaps my view stems from my inability to be emasculated in quite the same way as you” She had responded thoughtfully.

“Hm. Yeah. What’s a six-letter-word associated with attaining something you desire, but not in a way that’s profitable”

“Erised.” Luna answered easily.

“Blimey, yeah that works, thanks Hermione” Luna smiled, Ron had not noticed that Hermione and Harry had left for their first class 10 minutes ago, and now it was just her and Ron.

Perhaps her other eccentricities had overshadowed her rather blatant queerness; she was ‘Looney’ Lovegood as it were, not ‘Lesbo’ Lovegood; although “Ladylovin’ Lovegood” did have an awfully good ring to it. Perhaps she should suggest that to people who shouted ‘Looney’ at her as she skipped down the halls as a suitable alternative.

She sighed, amusing herself in memories and ponderings was not delineating her unending and boring trudge in flannel pyjamas down this endless dream hall in the slightest. This dream had been unendingly obstinate, never once acknowledging her requests; although never serving her a more frightening or scary dreamscape either.

She would simply have to continue walking until she awoke, or so she thought, until some strange tickle in the back of her mind spurred her to stop.

She halted, turning to her right. This door was identical to all the others, but something told her it was receptive to her, that it might allow her in.

She placed a hand on the doorknob and gently turned it, pushing the door open with little effort and stepping out into a large, circular room.

Her eyes scanned the empty room, noting the large, central bed, the walls that seemed to change color, and the balcony on which Hermione, of all people stood, rather engrossed in whoever she was making out with, another figure with long blonde hair.

Luna’s eyes snapped away reflexively. She had been yelled at enough times for curiously observing couples snogging in the hallways to know better by now, and she turned her attention to the rather odd surroundings, and the pleasant ocean breeze she could now smell.

“Luna?” Hermione called out, and Luna’s eyes flicked over to see that Hermione was now alone. 

"Hermione! Goodness what luck might I have, to come stumbling upon you here. This room is awfully intriguing, isn't it? The walls seem to change color, and it looks halfway between-" She responded lightly, choosing not to comment on Hermione’s activities a moment ago.

"-between the Astronomy tower and the Gryffindor girls dormitories? Yeah. I wondered about that" Hermione interrupted. 

Luna watched Hermione's head whip around, likely in search of her vanished companion. Despite the other individual’s sudden disappearance, Hermione simply shrugged and continued towards Luna, draping her arms over Luna’s shoulders and nuzzling deeply into her neck.

Luna was enjoying the close contact; Hermione was scarcely this affectionate in real life, it had always been Luna to instigate hugs, to gently reach out a hand as Hermione nervously accepted. How strange that her obstinate dream would finally give, and grant her this of all things. But she had not requested this. 

"You smell so nice Luna, how are you so lovely?" Hermione murmured, planting some hot, wet kisses on Luna’s neck.

‘Oh.’ was all Luna could think. She felt her throat grow dry, a quick throb low in her belly. She did not realize it was going to be this sort of dream. Those dreams only really happened when she went to bed exceptionally randy. This situation was odd. This room did not feel like it was of her own design; she knew the spaces it referenced, but it felt entirely foreign.

She stared straight ahead, and with the focus of a laser, asked loud and clear in her mind for a black square on the wall. The walls did not respond, phasing from a lush pink to a soft yellow and back again.

This was not her dream. Who else’s dream could it possibly be, in which Hermione was working on a rather impressive hickey at the crease of her neck.

"Hermione…" the nervous crack in Luna’s voice surprised even her.

"Luna?" Hermione asked, withdrawing with her eyebrows knit in such tenderhearted concern. "Are you okay sweetheart? You seem anxious...anything my tongue can fix?" Hermione quipped with a smirk.

Luna felt her pulse quicken. Oh, there were a great many things Hermione’s tongue could fix. But she most definitely was not in control of this dream. She had heard, perhaps overhead, in a discussion long ago between her father and a rather curious houseguest, talk of such things. The illegal travel between dreams; the magic necessary to ‘break in’ as it were, to another's subconscious. But she had not needed any spell to break in; the door had called to her, opened with the lightest touch. Perhaps this dream was being operated by another, or Luna had somehow lost control of her own dream. The thought made her limbs go cold. Without control, this dream could turn into horrors beyond her imagination once again.

"Luna?" Hermione whispered, her face brimming with worry. Luna had to know, she had to find out.

Luna swallowed thickly, her eyes darting to Hermione's lips. Perhaps in a moment, even if this dream was destined to turn sour, she could indulge in just one delectable kiss...

"Hermione…" she began slowly, "Are you in full control of your facilities at present…are you most certain you are not a figment within the imagination of another…"

Hermione scrunched her brows, puzzled.

"What? What are you talking about Luna?"

Luna had an idea.

"What did we do last night, Hermione?"

Hermione grinned.

"I'm fairly certain we fucked like rabbits, why?"

Luna felt her cheeks grow hot beyond belief as she attempted to speak again.

"That does sound...rather...enjoyable Hermione but I must truly know if you are indeed a figment or not within the conscience of another's dream. Last night we had roast chicken with Harry and Ron in the Great Hall, and then we…"

The silence lingered as cogs began to turn in Hermione, her expression tight as she began to recall.

"-went to the library together to finish studying for the Charms written exam." Hermione finally finished, clearly confused by the strange disparity between her supposed memory, and the reality she knew from her conscious mind.

"And then...we said goodnight and you tucked my hair behind my ear...and then i went to bed...and then i...took care of myself...and then…and then...I don't know." panic rose in Hermione's throat as the room around them began to become blurred and amorphous. This was most definitely Hermione’s dream.

Luna reached out to Hermione, she wished she could explain; most individuals could not retain the stability of a dream once they recognized it as such. She had struggled with this greatly at first.

"But that doesn't make sense…" Hermione whispered frantically.

"How did we get here? How did you go from over there being sexy with your bum out to here and clothed and wearing…” Hermione glanced Luna up and down “...Unicorn pyjamas. This doesn’t make any sense.”

Luna was speechless. That individual in the corner had been her; a version of her, curated by Hermione for the express purpose of being passionately made out with. Hermione had willed this; willed her to be there. Hermione had let her in.

“I am fairly certain this is a dream, Hermione.” Luna said, and the dream evaporated.

Luna was back in the hallway, immediately turning to her right. There was no door. Hermione had most likely woken up.

She stood there, perfectly still, staring at the spot the door had once been, for an amount of time she could not possibly hope to quantify, and then she was awake.

Luna sat bolt upright in bed. She had dreamwalked. She had been in Hermione’s dream; Hermione’s dream had been about her. She shut her eyes again, attempting to remember that delightful feeling of Hermione’s lips pressed against her skin, her hand instinctively travelling to her neck. There was nothing there, of course. It had not been real, she knew this.

But dreams existed in their own way; as fragile memories in the conscious, easily lost if not acknowledged. Luna immediately whipped her dream journal from beneath her bed, writing as many details as she could recall before the dream escaped her too.

She reached the point of describing Hermione’s recollection of the previous night.

‘When asked to recall the previous night, being prompted by dinner with Ron and Harry, Hermione commented that she did indeed recall last night’s activities (this confirms that the dream did not occur in the subconscious of another; only she or myself. She continued, however, that upon our parting, she had returned to the dorms and-’

Luna’s quill twitched.

‘Pleasured herself,’ Luna could not have known this; perhaps Luna could have conjured this component of the dream as a delectable detail for her own enjoyment, but in that moment she had been highly focused on deducing the nature of the dream. The odds were highly in favor of it having truly been Hermione’s dream.

‘She noted that before my arrival I had also ‘been present’; I have no recollection of this, indicating that the Luna she encountered was a creation of her own subconscious. She did not note if this Luna spoke to her, or what this Luna expressed, rather that she had been rather ‘sexy’ and had not been wearing pants’

Luna sat perfectly still, eyes lingering on her notes.

If this was correct, if Hermione had allowed Luna into her dream (albeit likely unintentionally)...

She bit the inside of her cheek.

Did Hermione have feelings for her too?


End file.
